


Ballast

by fourfreedoms



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Angst, June smutfest, Kissing, M/M, lots and lots of kissing, shitty coping methods
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-19
Updated: 2014-06-19
Packaged: 2018-02-05 07:39:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,565
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1810543
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fourfreedoms/pseuds/fourfreedoms
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>A sailboat requires ballast to provide righting moment to resist the lateral forces on the sail. Insufficiently ballasted boats will capsize in excessively high winds.</i>
</p><p>January 4th, 2005, Grand Forks, North Dakota. They lose.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ballast

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the prompt: _Ovi/Geno, INTENSE MAKEOUTS FOREVER_ for june smutfest. 
> 
> It's been cleaned up a little for AO3, but it's unbeta'd. So if you spot a billion errors, lemme know.

The one time Evgeni kissed Alex, it was through a mix of anger and frustration and pain, in a shitty hotel room in Grand Forks after getting their balls handed to them by Canada. He did it to shut him up, because Alex kept telling him his time in the box didn’t matter, that Evgeni still played good hockey, that he couldn’t blame himself. He didn’t fucking want to hear it. And so he knocked a surprised Alex back against his dresser and trapped him in a kiss that couldn’t really be called a kiss.

With one hand, Evgeni pushed purposefully along Alex’s ribs, fingertips nudging deep into the bruising he knew mottled Alex’s side. Anything to get that torrent of excuses to stop. The sound Alex made was shocked, almost a sob. His back arched from the pain, pushing his hips against Evgeni in unintended consequence. But he didn’t try to escape it. Even as Evgeni tongued along the seam of his chapped lips, tasting the remnants of bitter salt from hard-earned sweat, knuckling down into the damaged flesh, Alex didn’t stop him. 

Evgeni’s mind moved at miles a minute, wondering why Alex let him. He could have muscled him off easily enough. They were the same height, but Alex was solid rock through the shoulders. His narrow waist ran into heavy thighs that tricked the mind about the length of his legs. Being hit by him was like being barreled over by a freight train. So he couldn't quite understand why instead of thrusting Evgeni away, Alex tilted himself back, planted his feet like he wasn’t going anywhere, perched against the dresser top, and drew Evgeni in.

He let Evgeni assault his mouth, parted his lips beneath it, let him take. He widened his thighs and when Evgeni stepped between them, looming in close, spread-fingered palm pressing into the tender bruised flesh of Alex’s flank, he accepted it. His hips stuttered, another wounded sob, the sound of an injured animal bearing up his anger. Slowly, slowly, Alex dragged Evgeni’s hand down from his side, off the injury, but he didn’t push him away. He held on, hands coming up to frame Evgeni’s face.

Slowly then, he imposed distance between them, just a whisper between their faces, enough to meet Evgeni’s eyes. Evgeni realized then that the exhausted velvet shadows beneath Alex’s own blue ones were wet, lower lashes gone spiky and dark. He’d hurt Alex enough to squeeze tears out of them. He went to say something, a sullen yet remorseful apology, but Alex cut him off.

He wrapped his arms around Evgeni, twined around him and kissed him the way you kissed a girl you meant to convince into bed—all lip, just the barest flicker of practiced tongue, and the rest in the hands. He rolled his hips into Evgeni’s. This time not in unconscious shock to escape the punishing pressure of Evgeni’s hand, but deliberate—pushing the thick hot ridge of cock against Evgeni, let him feel it through the soft fabric of his sweatpants.

Alex kissed him until his breaths were coming harsh, until he had to brace himself up with one palm on the dresser top, forcing Alex back, pushing so that his feet came up off the ground. Alex laughed, a husky crushed sound that turned into something else when Evgeni reached around with his free hand, cupping his ass to tilt him right into the perfectly timed thrust of Evgeni’s hips.

Alex pulled away then, made a satisfied pornographic “mmm” and then swept in again, sucking at Evgeni’s lower lip, belting him in with a powerful forearm at Evgeni’s lower back. As if Evgeni was going anywhere. As if he could stop himself.

It was just kissing. Evgeni had been doing this since he was 13. Why then did it feel like fucking? The wet press of Alex’s mouth, the clothed friction of their bodies, was pure sex. He could imagine dragging Alex’s sweats down, pushing him further back on this dresser, and impaling him on his cock. In a way, this felt like that already.

Alex laughed, throaty and deep. “What are you thinking about, Zhenya?”

So Evgeni told him. He made it as filthy as possible. He’d never fucked somebody in the ass before, but he could imagine it: Alex’s hole gripping his cock, clenching hot and tight around him, face getting redder and redder across the bridge of his nose, the same way it did in a game, as Evgeni fucked him deeper. A part of him wanted to offend Alex, to get back nothing but righteous clean anger. He hoped for him to quail when Evgeni talked about Alex taking it like a mewling little bitch.

But he should've known better.

And when Alex looked at him, eyes narrowed, expression thoughtful, lip curved in that sinful half-smile, he knew—even if he did everything he promised—at the end of it, Evgeni would still feel like he was the one who got fucked, who got split open and ruined.

He tugged at waistband of Alex’s sweats, pulling him free of the fabric that was molded like it was wet around the obscene outline of his cock. It was fat and full, soft balls drawn up tight, fluid pearling at the tip. Alex dropped back further, shoulders meeting the wall. He gripped Evgeni’s shoulder with his left hand and when he reached down, curling his fist around the base of the shaft, that same hand tightened reflexively on Evgeni’s shoulder. His head lolled loosely back on the wallpaper, and he stared back at Evgeni through slit blue eyes.

Evgeni didn’t know what Alex was thinking as he held his gaze. He certainly didn’t expect the next few words to come out of his mouth: “If that’s what you need.”

Evgeni shuddered in his embrace, dropped forward to rest his forehead on Alex’s shoulder.

"C’mon, Zhenya," Alex said, arching against him. His clever fingers freed Evgeni's cock from his pants, heaving Evgeni in so that he could thrust against his belly. And then he kissed him again, thumb pressing at his lower lip, dragging his mouth wide so that Alex could get in deep. Evgeni's mouth burned, his palms ached, he was chasing some far off horizon, searching for something to make that hollowed out feeling go away. There were better ways of coping. He was self-aware enough to know that, but he didn't stop. He thrust hard enough against Alex that his shoulders met the wall with a meaty thud. He did it again and again, palms situated on either side of Alex’s hips on the wood top so that he could get all the power of his thighs behind it. Alex stayed firm against it, accepting it like an implacable wall.

Evgeni had to tear his mouth away just to breathe, cock slipping over a sweat-slicked, pre-come sticky trail along side Alex’s own. When Alex pushed back against him, tightening the space between them, Evgeni cried out, inexorable and helpless. At the sound of it, Alex came, thighs tightening until Evgeni new the sharp cut of his hipbones had to be biting painfully into the muscle. Alex didn’t let up.

Evgeni continued to thrust against the fluttering muscles of his abdomen, Alex’s mess hot and sticky between them, and when Alex opened his eyes, wide, blue, guileless. He couldn’t stop it anymore. 

"Sasha," he said on a soft gasp, marking Alex up with his come. When his heart beat finally slowed to normal, he stumbled back, practically falling onto his bed. Everything hurt. But it was the good hurt, a sharp agony cutting through the dark mood that threatened to drag him under. He breathed and waited to feel shame or remorse. It wouldn't come. Alex gingerly straightened up in front of him. He wiped a hand over his face, looking lost for the first time, and then he shook his head and disappeared into the bathroom. After a moment the shower turned on.

Fifteen minutes later, he stepped out again, unselfconscious of his nakedness. The left side of his ribs was so blacked up with bruises that Evgeni winced. It was arresting the way muscles moved beneath Alex’s skin as he pulled on pajama pants. It was a body he’d seen naked now more than a few times in his life, but looking at it now, the dip in his spine, the raw strength of his shoulders, everything was different.

Alex didn’t say anything, didn't pull one of his triumphant Alex moments - “hah, I knew I could make you feel better” - he just sank down to his own queen bed. After a long pause of lead-weighted silence, he turned on the TV and put his arms up behind his head, settling in to watch some show that Evgeni, with his inferior English, couldn’t understand.

He stared at Alex. He knew he was staring and it was awkward, especially with his softened cock still hanging half out of his pants, sweat and jizz all down his front. Alex paused and turned his head. Evgeni waited then for what he was sure was coming next. He bit his lip, bracing himself against it. But all Alex said was, “The shower’s free,” and then turned back to the TV.

The moment was over, but Evgeni carried it with him for the next ten years.

**Author's Note:**

> Okay. I want there to be so much more of this. You don't even know. SOME DAY! SOME DAYYYYY.


End file.
